King In This World
by floppyearsthebunny
Summary: Edmund was true to his kingship, life would never be the same for him after having been a king in Narnia. That would always be part of who he was, forever. Now back in England, Edmund must deal with the demands of living like a king of Narnia in this world. Contains minor action violence /school yard fighting. One cracked nose.


**Disclaimer: I am not C.S. Lewis. I'm a student working towards a High school graduation equivalent so I can become part of the working world. I wrote this story for fun and for my friends, with the help of my friends also with lots of admiration and application towards the man. no profit is being made from it. I would never want to diminish the greatness of the man who we all admire.**

**Note:** I would like to thank the wonderful friends who made this story possible. Gleebicheep, H. Max Marius, Tonzura123 (so many thanks to you for all your beta'ing and encouragement), to many, many friends, and to my especially dear Happy Islander who assisted me in creating the title and summary.

_To my friends, written for fun and with love, _

It was a clear, crisp Autumn morning. The trees were decked in regal finery of ruby, emerald and gold. Sunshine pleasantly bathed the world in amber splendor as Edmund walked out on to the school yard, lunch in hand.

He briefly scanned the knots of students, looking for a familiar face. He felt miserable; he wasn't supposed to be a weak, skinny ten year-old. He was King Edmund, knight of Narnia. Wise in counsel and great in battle. He was...

"Hey Edmund, over here!" a voice called from one of the tables across the yard. Sighing softly to himself, he looked over to where the voice had come from. Several of his old buddies sat at a table eating and joking with several of the nastier boys from his form. Part of him wanted to ignore them and walk right on by, part of him wanted to show them a difference. _It's what Aslan would do_, he thought.

"Hello Thomas, James," he called, striding over to the table. "How did the summer treat you?"

"It was horrible on us, but it was far worse for Thomas than for me," complained the red-haired boy, smirking knowingly at the boy next to him and elbowing him. "And you? I heard you got stuck with some old professor during the bombing."

"Yes, we were. It wasn't bad though. He was a brick and we actually had a good time there."

Snorting, Thomas jeered, "Come on Ed, be honest. We both know you hate studying or anything related."

The words barmy, loony, and mad tickled at the back of Edmund's tongue as he looked into Thomas' face. His friends would hardly understand what kind of changes the summer had wrought on him. They would expect such a crude evaluation of a summer spent in a musty old manor house surrounded by books. "I actually _did_ have quite a fine time this summer."

A sudden cry jolted Edmund out of the conversation before him. Several large boys from Peter's year were cornering a small boy. A small paper sack was clasped desperately in his hands.

"James, who's that boy?" Edmund asked, turning to the boy sitting beside him.  
"Name's Havens. Nathaniel," his friend replied nonchalantly. With a smirk, he added, "He's new. Just joined this term."

"Thanks, mate," the dark-haired boy replied, getting up quickly and walking briskly towards the beginnings of a row.

"Hey, whoa, Ed! Ed, come back here! What are you doing?" one of his friends James called. "Do you want to get beat to an indistinguishable pulp? Who's going to clean up the mess when you fall?"

The just king had to smirk at that remark." Who indeed was going to clean up the mess he was about to make.

"Aw, leave him alone," another boy spoke up. " 'e just wants to join in on the fun. Let 'im go. "

With a determined stride and his lips set in a grim line, he pressed. They could not possibly know how he had changed, but perhaps he could show them. Years of court and fighting alike had taught Edmund to not pay heed to those who wished for evil instead of justice.

As he neared the cluster of boys, he could hear the taunts of the bullies. Then someone called out "Here comes Pevensie's kid brother." At that they all turned, one holding Nathaniel's collar. He looked indeed like a frightened animal ready to bolt, yet his eyes to Edmund, almost seemed to plead for help. Maybe it was his imagination. He once again saw himself in the torn and half un-tucked shirt and in the dirt and fresh grass stains fresh from running and falling.

"Come to help us, Pevensie?"

"Let him go, Mattinson," Edmund ordered, his voice even. The older boy complied, shoving his victim into the dirt.

"Well looky here. It's another scrawny boy, 'cept this one wants to play hero," one of the boys jeered. "Haver's your knight in shining armor is here!" The other bullies broke into gales of laughter.

Edmund ignored the question; he'd been called worse in Narnia. Approaching the small, thin lad, he helped him up. "Nathaniel, right?"

Nathaniel nodded, rubbing his dirty face to hide the stains tears leaking grudgingly and glaring at nearly everyone.

In spite of himself, Edmund almost smiled. How he must have looked like that last year. He turned to the other boys, who must have seemed like giants to Havens with their brawny stature and stocky muscled arms. "He's with me."

"Oh look, our little 'prentice has been reformed," Philmore's nasal voice sang out, much to the others' amusement.

"I thought first term's lesson had enough, and I thought you'd had fun last year, Runt." Then, turning to his pals, Collins said, "And yet, look boys he comes back again for more."

"Hey, Pevensie. Leave now and we'll give you half of the spoils. I think I saw some Turkish Delight in his lunch bag!" Richardson called, standing just behind Collins.

Smirking, Collins turned to face Edmund again, he smirked "Shove off, Pevensie. This is none of your business."

For the briefest of moments a distant look came into, the Just King's eyes at the mention of Turkish Delight. But he caught himself and turned to squarely face the jeering crowd of boys that now surrounded him and Nat. "Serving justice is always my business," he replied calmly.

"Ooooh, little do-gooder thinks he's a judge."

"Where's big brother, scrawny? He isn't here to protect you! You're all alone." Philmore called out again, reaching an arm and shoving Edmund.

Edmund face didn't even flicker at the boys jeering words. "I am never alone," he replied, his thoughts on Aslan.

Stepping right to the dark-haired Pevensie so that he was in the younger boy's face, the leader stared down at him. "You're a traitor, you know that Pevensie? A. dirty. rotten. goody-two shoes. **_Traitor_**," he hissed, drawing out the last word. "And _everybody_ knows it."

Edmund's face went white with anger. "_Traitor_," the word rang in his ears, and stung like the bite of a whip to his conscience. He knew Aslan had forgiven him. Still, no one had mentioned that accusing title in a long time. Anyone had called him that been swiftly silenced by his siblings or other Narnians. In time, it had faded away the title of "King Edmund the Just" replacing it.

"Strength is not measured by size, but by strength of heart." He remembered his general had once told him.

"No, little knight. Strength is measured by how far I'm going to pound you under the dirt!" Collins shouted, swinging his fist towards Edmund.

Ducking, the raven-haired youth straightened and faced the smirking bullies, "If any of you knew anything about being a knight or gentleman; you would mind your own business and leave this boy alone," Edmund stated as a crowd of onlookers gathered around them. The beginning shouts of "Fight! Fight!" Fight!" could be heard from the crowd around them.

"Is that so, Pevensie?" Collins asked dangerously.

The dark haired youth merely stared back at the bully coolly; looking not at all like the slim youngster before them but like a king, wise and powerful.

"Aw, little Eddie's trying to threaten us," Collins said smugly, smiling to the other boys around him as Edmund began to escort Nathaniel out of the crowd. There were nasty smiles and laughs from the cronies. With little warning, Collin's foot snaked out to trip the younger pevensie.

Edmund saw the move coming and quickly sidestepped, bringing his foot up at the same moment to connect hard with the bully's shin. Not waiting to see the outcome of his move, he quickly thrust Nat's lunch into his hands and pushed him beyond the reach of the boys. "Run, Nat!"

The bullies then all tried to grab him at once, but with so many arms in the small space they all got tangled up. A hand grabbed hold of his shoulder, but he twisted like a fish and slipped out of their grasp. Another swung at him intending to strike the Edmund on the jaw. In a flash, the younger Pevensie's arm lashed out pinning the other boy's arm behind his back.

Sensing someone behind him, Edmund spun away shoving Collins to the ground. As he did, so two of the bully's lackeys managed to grab his arms.

"Ooo Pevensie. Now you have done it." Collins growled as he peeled himself off the ground. Anger was written all across his furiously reddening face, the veins in his neck sticking out in rage. With a leer, he slowly approached the younger boy. "And now, I'm going to make you wish you'd never come back from that manor house this summer."  
Edmund pulled against the boys holding his arms but could not break free.

As Collins approached, reflexes the exiled king and knight thought he'd left on the other side of the wardrobe kicked in and leaned his full weight back on the lackeys. Leaping upward, he lashed out with his right foot. A flash of shoe-leather reflecting the noonday sunlight became a brown blur, as it caught the leering bully across the nose with the heel of his shoe. A sickening crack followed. As the older boy's head snapped backward, the Edmund's leg overextended and he felt a pop in his thigh as the muscles in his leg stretched and one of them tore.

Another bully, nearly the size of Collins lunged and grabbed Edmund by the shoulders. The force bent the smaller boy under, almost snapping his spine. With an agonized twist, he shot out of his grasp, slipping and falling...falling...falling. Like ravenous wolves going for the kill, they were all at him, Edmund managed to injure a few more, yet in the end, Collins and one of his cronies grabbed him from behind and held him as the others rained down blows. Intense waves of pain radiated outward as Collins' fist slammed into his stomach. But as soon as the deed was done, smiles faded from the bullies' faces as the headmaster's voice cut across the yard. "What's going on here?!"

Through swollen and smarting eyes, Edmund saw the headmaster striding across the school yard. Peter came skidding out the same door, moments later. His eyes caught Edmunds and widened in concern.  
-

The sound of running footsteps followed by a command of "Slow down, young man." startled Edmund into wakefulness, his eyes fluttering open to see one of his friends being led over by the school nurse. James stood there, red-faced and panting from running.

"Hello, James."

"H-hello Mate," the boy replied with a swift intake of air. His face indeed looked a bit white as he took in Edmund's injuries.

Edmund tried to push him up, and but fell back with a grimace. Turning on his side proved to be a chore, as both sides were similarly quite bruised and in the end, he gave up resigning himself to lying on his back.

The other boy's eyes darted nervously around the room before he burst out, "Why'd you do that, mate? Have you gone mad?!" An incredulous pause. "What made you go and get yourself t'all beaten up?"

Edmund took a deep breath, winced, and let it out taking in a smaller one. Because… .because James… it was the right thing to do. To defend… to look after someone smaller and weaker than yourself when they can't defend themselves…"

A great pause followed as Edmund tried to override the pain coursing through him and as his friend tried to process the information.

"I don't know what's gotten into your brain of yours, maybe it was that old professor at that manor house you stayed at. You're mad, Penvensie. Mad . . .but I like you," he finished bit of a smile.

Edmund quirked a smile at his friend's words. As surely as there had been hope for him to change, there would be hope that James might even change too. "You're not the only one who has told me that." The boy looked puzzled a moment than they both burst into laughter.

Peter stared at the clock. It was only a few minutes till class ended for the day. He glanced back at his text and tried to focus but the effort was useless and his eyes drifted back the clock as they had been doing for the whole class.

He had heard shouts in the school yard and a growing sense of anxiety had been growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Mr. Pevensie." The instructor's stern voice strict voice cut through his thoughts. Meekly, he dropped his eyes back to his desk. It was the story of the Middle age crusades. He sighed, hoping not to attract attention again. He'd nearly been there himself. In Narnia, he'd lived, and fought and sometimes nearly died. But nearly always, Edmund had been by his side. Idly, he gazed back up at the clock avoiding his teacher's reproving glare.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the instructor dismissed them. Jumping to his feet, the elder Pevensie quickly shoved his books in his schoolbag and joined the other boys making an escape.

"Focus next time, Pevensie," the Professor reprimanded the wheaten haired young man the as he passed the great oaken desk, making his way to the door. Peter nodded. Finally free, he slipped out from the crowd making its way outside and sprinted to the infirmary, earning him several disapproving and surprised glances from adults and students alike.

Finally free, he slipped from the crowd making its way through the hallway and sprinted to the door, which lead outside to the school yard, earning him several disapproving and surprised glances from adults and students alike.

He was already he had delayed long enough he was certain. Edmund had been acting differently since their return to school, defending boys he had picked on before. He had been especially protective of a small German Jewish boy.

And then a very familiar cry of pain only spurred him faster.

It was what he saw when he pushed opened the door, he saw his brother surrounded and alone by bullies who were all beating upon him. The headmaster, already ahead of him was already making his across the grounds towards the fight.

"Edmund!" Peter exclaimed, hot on the headmaster's heels as he strode onto the recess yard. Vaguely he heard the shouted question "What's going on here?!" as he sped up his pace to reach his brother. The crowd around his brother was already rapidly dispersing, leaving the victim on the ground. Their fun was over. They had no desire to be implicated in the event nor in the troublemakers' punishment.

"Mattinson! Collins! Richardson! Philmore" the voice of headmaster boomed. "In my office. Now!"

Balling his hands into fists in anger, Peter slammed them against ground as he knelt down beside his fallen brother. "Ed? Can you hear me?" the exiled High King panted. A memory as if from a time ago played across his mind.

_He was sitting in a freezing cold river with muck and mud covering him. His brother was cradled in his arms. The younger boy's armor was marred and bent. There was a long, ugly cut on his forehead and beneath the filth covering him, there were bruises forming on his face. Time seemed as sluggish as the river, as he awaited the litter and tried to keep Edmund's head above the water. _

_After what seemed like hours later but was only several minutes, the sounds of hooves and feet were heard. Detachedly, he watched the healers laid his nearly lifeless brother on the litter. Two salty tears rolled down his cheeks but he did not brush them away. _

"Peter?" came a frail reply, followed by a pained whimper.

The elder pevensie gently placed his hands under the brother's body to scoop his beaten brother into his arms, but Edmund put out a hand to stop him. ". . .Pete. . .help me up."

"Ed... you-"

"Please. . . I have too. . . for them. . . show them. . ."

And Peter knew what his brother was thinking. That he wasn't talking about the bullies, but merely showing his classmates how a knight of Narnia behaved. How this king of Narnia behaved.

So gently, supporting him with an arm around the younger boy's smallish frame, Peter helped his brother to his feet.

"That's it. Gently now, Poor lad," said the headmaster coming around from behind to help lift Edmund up. "Let's get him to the infirmary. Mr. Blake," the headmaster called, picking out a boy still standing around gawking. "Please convey to Professor Fisher that Mr. Pevensie will not be joining his class today. Tell him I sent you."

As he helped his brother towards the school, Peter saw some of Edmund's so-called mates all staring from where they sat. A few, no doubt, whispered nasty things. No one had dared to cross Collins and his bullies in years. Then as they reached the door, one finally broke away and hurried after them.

The nurse met them at the door and helped the older Pevensie lay his brother down on one of the nearby cots before conversing momentarily with the headmaster. Peter could tell his brother was exhausted from that walk; the pain shining in Edmund's dark eyes told him just how much the feat had extracted.

"Make…make sure Nat is okay…"

"Just rest, Ed" Peter soothed, brushing the hair out of Edmund's eyes, the younger boy's eyelids were already drooping.

"Come on, Pevensie. Back to classes," instructed the headmaster softly, coming up behind the older youth and laying a gentle hand on the on his shoulder.

"Yes, Sir…" Peter replied, casting a wistful look back at his sleeping brother.

It was late when Peter was at released from his classes.

Slowing as he reached the entrance of the school infirmary, he skidded to a stop just inside. "How is he?" he asked. The nurse smiled at him compassionately. "Sleeping. He hasn't vanished yet, Pevensie" she finished with a twinkle in her eye. It was becoming common knowledge how close the Pevensie Brother had grown. Quietly, she led him to where Edmund lay. The dirt had been washed away as best as possible and bandages covered most of his injuries. There was a bruise on his cheek, and just above a black eye.

Quietly He lowered himself into a near by chair, and dropping his book bag to the floor with a soft 'thunk'. He smiled at his brother thankful that his brother was able to get some rest before reaching down to retrieve the first of his books he needed for his assignments. He hadn't gotten far into it when he heard a cough, he looked up quickly from his book. His brother was still asleep. He had rolled over (Peter wondered how he could with all the bruises.) and seemed to be frowning; the lids of his eyes seemed to be blinking ever so fractionally in his sleep.

It was sometime later when Edmund awoke grumpily. "Peter. Why didn't you wake me up when you returned?"

"You needed the sleep."

Turning to face his brother he asked, "Is Nathaniel alright?" In the end, turning on his side proved to be a chore, as both sides were similarly quite bruised and in the end, he gave up. Resigning himself to lying on his back, he looked up at the cracks in the ceiling.

"Yes, he's fine, Ed, He fetched the headmaster for you." Peter replied smiling half-heartedly, gently patting his brother's shoulder. "How do you feel?"

"How do you think I feel?" Edmund retorted, then frowned. The pain was making the sarcasm in his voice come out harsher than he had meant it too.

His brother was silent a moment, "Like you just been trampled by a giant?"

"Close enough," the brown haired youth muttered with a grimace. Shifting his bruised legs in an effort to relieve the tension on his injuries, he hissed in pain as the torn muscle manifested itself again. "Ahhh…. My leg…. Pete, I think I over-extended myself …I keep forgetting I'm not as strong as I used to be…."

"The nurse said you probably pulled a muscle."

"Feels like a tear." He groaned. A dark thought suddenly came to him. He could see himself limping along the hallway all by himself, only to have his way blocked by a smirking Collins. "More prey for Collins and his ilk, likely. Blast!" he pounded the sheet with his fist, wincing as he remembered the bruises on his arms.

"Don't worry, Ed. I'll be right behind you."

He smiled. _On days like these, He was especially glad for his brother._ "Thanks, Peter."

A low dangerous chuckle came from his brother. "Collins has no idea what he's up against. And of the two of us," he continued with a proud, smug smile. "You're the clever one. I remember you outwitting your opponent more than once. Frankly," he leaned back and folded his arms, with a smile of satisfaction on his face "I'm looking forward to seeing the baffled look on his face next time he encounters you."

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor:

If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.

But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. . .

Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

_Ecclesiastes 4:9-10,12_ _NIV_


End file.
